


Beautiful Trauma

by galacticLEI



Category: WKM - Fandom, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: And you can pry that from my cold dead hands, Angst, Because that is all WKM is anymore, Damien is Gay, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Other, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual Undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 11:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20620649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticLEI/pseuds/galacticLEI
Summary: When that mirror cracked, flashes of the past, and everything that had led to this point, flashed through Dark’s eyes.A collection of fics regarding Damien and Celine before the events of WKM.





	1. Chapter 1

Glass shattered along with a sudden crescendo of rapturous laughter, the sound muted yet still audible from where it echoed down the long, twisting manor halls. She tensed, black, manicured nails digging into the pale skin of her arms. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to ignore the stench of alcohol that still clung to her, exhaling as steadily as she could manage. Her fingers resorted to tapping in a mindless rhythm against her forearm, her teeth apprehensively biting down on her lip, marring the deep red lipstick that been been so precisely applied. Although her motions were antsy, uncomfortable, only a fool would approach believing her to be a poor damsel in distress. Those dark eyes glinted with the hidden power of a bird of prey, searching for a kill. Something sink its claws into to forget the cage it was trapped within. Something to repress the fact it was treated like a mere trophy to be displayed.

“You shouldn’t be trapped in here like this,” came the voice of the fool – but a knowing fool – who stood across from her, “this isn’t right, Celine. You should-“

“I should what, Damien?” Was the sharp reply, cutting the man off as talons sunk into her only available target, “What exactly should I do?”

A crippling silence fell across the pair as the prey battled for an answer. He stood, back to the beautiful embroidered wall, soft brown eyes only on the woman who sat perched on the edge of her bed. Fingers anxiously drummed at the silver ornament atop his trusty cane, the man somewhat unsteady on his feet. Slightly tipsy, a result of the thriving party downstairs. But his handsome features only contorted with worry as they met the lady’s angered expression.

“I, don’t know,” he finally relented, letting his gaze fall away, “I just hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m fine.” Was the curt response, one that was incredibly well rehearsed. Lithe fingers found the extravagant ring upon her left hand, jewels glistening under the low light of the bedroom. She twisted it back and forth with almost malicious intent, as if doing so would free her of the chains that held her within this place. “You know full well I could leave this room if I wanted to.”

“But you don’t want to, do you?” That uncomfortable silence fell between them once more, although now the young man held the status, “Not with him causing that drunken ruckus downstairs.”

“And shouldn’t you be joining him? You were enjoying it just moments ago.” She dismissed him flippantly, a scowl playing across her lips. Her brother recoiled, like a dog that had been hit. If Celine was a bird of prey, Damien was more akin to a puppy. Ferociously loyal and kindhearted – but perhaps far too trusting. Much too eager to please.

“You should know that I came here more so to see you, not him,” he hastily defended, earning his sister’s gaze to leave the wedding ring and return to his desperate expression, “when I couldn’t find you, I figured you’d be up here.”

“Well, you’ve seen me now, little brother. Go back to your drunken party tricks.”

“No! I- Celine…” the man controlled his emotional outburst, pressing his lips together in a thin line as he collected his next words, “Stop pushing me away, please. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other… I don’t want it ending in another fight.”

“Stop pushing for a fight and you won’t get one,” she shot with an indifferent shrug, although her arms uncomfortably crossed over one another.  
“You’re the one making this into a fight! I- I mean… I just want to talk to my sister again…”

“Your sister was gone the moment her parents sold her off to a rich bastard!” Once again, that silence fell over the pair. Celine bared her teeth in a snarl when her victim didn’t speak, taking the opportunity to dig in. “And you did nothing.” 

Damien didn’t answer, but unspoken words hung heavily in the air. What could I have done, Celine? Instead, he sucked in a quiet breath, rolling his shoulders to ease his discomfort. That silence dragged out, and he quickly sought to end it. “I wasn’t planning to return to the, festivities. I was heading home.”

“Of course you were.”

“I have work early in the morning.”

“Of course you do.”

Damien shook his head defeatedly as the woman insistently shut him out - as he should have expected. “You could come with me.” Those words only earned a moment of hesitation.

“And do what exactly?” The words didn’t hold her previous scorn, only exhaustion clung to them as mournful eyes fell upon her helpless little brother. “I can see the headline now; ‘Mayor Kidnaps Renowned Actor’s Wife’,” a bitter laugh escaped her lips, and her gaze dropped, unable to meet those pained hues that bored into her, “There would probably be some more scandalous claims thrown about along with it. You don’t need to taint your pristine reputation.”

“I - so you expect me to just leave you here?”

“As always, Damien. Yes, I do.”

The mayor nodded, the movement slow and sad. A pitiful smile tugged forcefully at his lips. “You always were so stubborn…” he let himself trail off for a moment, but when Celine made no attempts to combat his claim, he continued, “William is down there. I could send him up. You shouldn’t be sitting around up here all alone. This isn’t good for you.”

For a moment, something akin to hope glimmered within the bitter woman’s dark eyes, but it was quickly vanquished, “No. He’s always at Mark’s side, and besides, he’s probably half sea’s over.” Not that Will wasn’t entertaining when drunk, but she didn’t need a child to look after. A finger deftly moved to trace beneath her eyes, sweeping up any salty drops that threatened to spill. That wasn’t a sight for her brother to see. Damien watched her, powerless to help, offering the faintest of laughs.

“You’re, probably right.”

“I always am. You should go home. Get some sleep.”

“You should, too, Celine.” 

“I will. No need to be worrying about me. You have your work to focus on. I can take care of myself.” A tight smile pulled across her red lips, not reaching her eyes. A vain act of reassurance.

“I know you can,” Damien murmured, trying to hide just how crushed he felt. He reached for the bedroom door, his hand merely resting upon the handle for a moment. “Just, know that you don’t have to do everything alone. I’m here for you. Always.” 

With those heavy words hanging in the air, Damien slipped out the door and quietly slid it shut behind him. Pristine dress shoes could be heard retreating down the hall to be swallowed up by the sounds of the lively party below. Despite the luxurious size of the bedroom she resided within, Celine had never felt more confined. Her hands curled into fists, black nails digging into the skin of her palm, although she didn’t let herself break.

Time ticked by, brought constantly to her attention by ominous drone of the grandfather clock pushed into the corner. Her brother’s words echoed mockingly in her ears, as if the walls repeated them in a malicious attempt to taunt her. It was a ridiculous thought, but this house always set her on edge. She’d written up countless notes on it, conducted various tests into the supernatural that would shun her from the rest of society if it weren’t for the status of her husband. But so far, she was yet to pinpoint a source for her fears. It was one of the many things that kept her wide awake on nights such as this. She could only hope Damien had arrived home safe and sound and got a decent night’s sleep. He would stay safe and out of the way.

In the early hours of the morning, the rumbling noise of the party downstairs slowly mellowed out. Mark was quick to toss away his drugged up distractions once he was done with them, and it wouldn’t be long before he made his way up into the bedroom. It was a routine she’d memorised, and it only left room for dread. The drunk bastard - she had referred to him as that moments before. He was once a friend, even if more so to her brother than herself. He always got what he wanted, and as a child she’d seethed with jealously as her brother and his friends were off adventuring. She was the unwanted extra in a politically minded family. A girl. She would be of most benefit married off to a rich, powerful man, regardless of whether she held more of a natural leader’s wit and drive than Damien ever did. She always did the work. Always protected him.

Then her brother watched helplessly as she was thrown away to be married with dear old Mark. The perfect fit – rich, powerful and with reputable lineage. A better suitor than William, a poor rascal from a war-torn family. But she didn’t have to battle for Will’s kindness and respect. Mark, on the other hand…

“Celine..!?” Crooned out a drunken voice, and Celine tensed. She could hear the barefooted, staggering steps approaching the door. “I- n-no Benjamin, go clean up – ah, Celine? You’ve been hiding your gorgeous face away from me a-all night… I do ho-ope you’ve kept it as glamorous as it was the start of the evening, eh?” His voice never lost that stuck-up, dramatic bravado, even when slurred and stunted with the odd hiccup. 

Mark wasn’t quite this bad sober, although he relied more on his money to keep her satisfied than a personality.

The actor’s hands found the door handle. She knew they were already coated in the alcohol his body vainly worked to sweat out. She straightened, sucking in a sharp breath as a stiff smile painted across her blank features. 

Her act didn’t need to be good. He wouldn’t notice or care either way.

Mark swung open the door and sauntered in, haphazardly pulling the door shut behind him. His features lit up at the sight of her seated on the bed, his gaze wandering over her shamelessly. He wore that red robe, draped rather uselessly over him. He never seemed to care as much for dignity as one would expect. “My, my, who… who thought to leave dessert locked up in here? Won’t even, get to share… ah well…” Celine internally grimaced at the disgusting remarks she had come to expect.

She let her mind wander to Damien. Keeping on good terms with Mark kept his reputation safe. The actor had made sure to remind her of this when she did lash out. Wouldn’t want him to lose everything, would you?

With little grace the drunken man wasted no time in shedding that robe and letting it crumple upon the ground. Celine adverted her gaze, biting her tongue. He waltzed over, possessive, sweaty hands quickly wrapping around her and pushing her down onto the bed. “I’ve never exactly liked sharing…” he hummed in a low voice, before lips crashed forcefully against her own. The taste of smoke and alcohol seeped into her. Her eyes slid shut as fingers groped and tugged at her figure. Admiring her as another possession to satisfy his greed. A revolted shiver ran down her spine as the man continued with his selfish actions, uncaring.

She sighed shakily, letting her thoughts drift to William.


	2. Glass Daggers

The man flinched back within his seat at the loud sound of shattering glass, blinking his eyes back into reality as he scanned for the source of the noise. He sat at a table, plates once containing a selection of delectable foods now having been emptied promptly by the table’s occupants. Hasty apologetic murmurs quickly adjoined the shatter, sourced from the waiter who’d dropped to his knees to clean up the glasses he had been serving – now scattered in sharp pieces across the ground and drenched in the pool of water that promptly began to spread. The Mayor gave the man a sympathetic smile, waving off those desperate apologies. He saw little reason for the fear in this staff member’s eyes, they had been nothing but kind and helpful throughout the evening, and he quickly straightened up as he shifted to reassure them.

“Don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us, eh?” The waiter at his feet glanced up, offering a few stammered words before rushing off to gather supplies to clean up the spillage.

“Really, Dames, no need to be so bashful over a mistake you didn’t even make.” Grunted the almost disgusted voice of the man who sat opposite him, the Actor scooting aside to make sure his perfect dress shoes weren’t tainted by the liquid creeping across the floor. The woman beside him scoffed with a roll of the eyes, her gaze falling back to the view outside the window. City lights glistened, shining off the water that coated the cobblestone road. The rain had cleared up now, and the laughing joyous faces of the night moved down the streets, surveyed lazily by police at their posts. Although, the cops were often more interested in being bribed with alcohol themselves rather than genuinely upholding the ban. 

“Like I said, Mark, it happens to the best of us. It isn’t his fault – I’m sure its been quite the long day for him.” Damien retorted somewhat chidingly, and the other man simply huffed and rolled his shoulders in a dismissive shrug.

“Whatever you say, my oh so remarkably Humble and Generous Mayor.” The Actor crooned out dramatically, leaning back into his seat with a flippant wave of the hand. 

“Oh, quiet.” Damien chuckled, rolling his eyes and playfully crossing his arms. “It’s basic decency, old friend.”

“I personally think allowing glass to shatter is a safety hazard, Mr Mayor! They’re like, little glass daggers.”

The Mayor rolled his eyes, glancing over as the waiter returned with new glasses of water. He set them down delicately upon the table before ducking down to dry up the spilled water with a towel. “Thank you - no need to fret about it, alright? We certainly won’t be complaining.” Damien shot a meaningful to Mark, who held his hands up in surrender, glancing away with a scowl, “The food has been delightful – could you inform the chef we enjoyed it immensely, please? I most definitely plan to dine here again.” A genuine smile graced the Mayor’s lips, and he gave a grateful nod as the man finished cleaning up the spill and rushed off. “You chose quite the spectacular restaurant for this little meet up.

“Eh, it suffices. I wouldn’t settle for anything less. No need to pander so heavily – you already got the job, remember?” He flashed a smirk, before reaching out for the glass of water with overt disappointment causing a frown to tug at his lips, “there’s one bad thing about dining out, however. No getting completely fucking zozzled, eh? Not even moonshine. Think I’d prefer dining in my wine cellar.” Mark idly swirled the glass in his hands, taking a sip more out of boredom rather than thirst.

“As Mayor, I’m going to act as if I didn’t hear that. A man such as yourself would never break the law.”

“Oh, of course not!” The Actor moved forward, leaning against the table with his chin in his hand and flashing Damien a wink. “I’d only break it as much as yourself, Mr Mayor.”

“I’d be careful, dearest,” Celine finally piped up, gazing between the pair almost lazily, “my dear brother could certainly toss you into jail if he felt the need.” The comment was more to humour her husband, her eyes flickered between the two of them as if she were an exhausted mother. It was obvious she’d rather be somewhere else – or at least it was obvious to Damien.

“She is quite right,” the Mayor hummed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “there’s quite a bit I could drag you down for.”

“Mhm. Whatever you say, Dames.” Mark spoke up without a care, pushing himself back off the table and crossing his legs with dramatic flair, “I’m sure you aren’t a completely Holy, lawful man yourself.”

“And you are?” Damien snarked with a raise of an eyebrow.

“Now, I didn’t say that!”

“Quiet now boys, there are other people here who don’t want to deal with your constant squabbling.” Celine murmured, quickly earning herself Mark’s attention, the man flashing a charming smile.

“Oh, my apologies, my sweet. I don’t mean to bicker.” He took the Seer’s hand delicately in his own, placing a kiss to it and gazing into her stern eyes, “You would know Damien and I are akin to brothers.”

Celine drew her hand back with a pleasant smile that didn’t reach the eyes. “That I would.”

“Might I ask now,” Damien cut in, noting his sister’s unimpressed nature silently, “why exactly you dragged me out here, old friend? There was a meeting I could have attended tonight. There’s been some concerns over a preparations for another war.” The Actor barked out a laugh at the prospect, waving his friend off flippantly.

“Oh please, another war? How idiotic do you think we are? After the last one all anyone wants is to get drunk and party – there’s never been more peace! Besides, I doubt anyone could fight with your oh so saintly presence as Mayor. No, friend, I simply wanted to catch up! It’s been too long since we’ve had a talk and dined. No chaos. It always business and work and partying – wasn’t childhood so much easier?” Damien offered a slight shrug and a chuckle.

“I suppose you’re right. But I can’t stay here all night, Mark. I do have other matters to attend to.”

“Right, of course.” Mark fell silent a moment, furrowing his brow as he examined his friend with something that could be mistaken for disappointment, “ah well, it has been a pleasure whilst it lasted! I would most definitely like to do it more often! I am sure Celine here agrees!” He leant over to press a kiss to the woman’s cheek, “You two used to be so close! It’s a shame we’ve all been too busy to meet up more often.” Without second thought, the Actor leapt to his feet and swept his arm out in a gesture for his company to follow. “Come on, Dames, let me lead you to your car! No need for us to part so soon!”

Damien got to his feet, glancing to his sister who seemed to quite intentionally avoid his gaze. He frowned, but didn’t have time to dwell on it as Mark waltzed towards the exit. The flamboyant man rifled through his pockets and slapped a rather significant amount of cash down on the counter at the entrance. He flashed a wink at the stunned looking waiter. “Keep the change, honey, I am quite sure my friend wanted to tip you all for the spectacular service regardless.” he drawled, before swinging the doors open, holding one open for his more mellow company to follow through after.

“You’ve certainly done well for yourself, haven’t you?” Damien commented as he stepped outside, his jacket sheltering him from the slight chill of the air. Celine clutched the feeble coat that hung over her otherwise bare shoulders with displeasure, a faint scowl pulling at her dark red lips.

“My, what gave you that impression?” Mark asked with a wide, cocky grin, glancing around at the parked cars before looking back to the Mayor. “Actually… my dearest Celine, would you mind waiting here just a moment? I’d quite like to speak with my friend here one on one.” Damien raised a quizzical eyebrow at the request, gaze falling almost apologetically upon Celine at the idea of making her wait any longer. His sister seemed even more uncomfortable at the idea than he expected, biting her lip before placing all of her effort into a dismissive shrug. 

“Of course, dear. Do hurry, won’t you though? It’s a bit cold for standing around waiting.” She droned, her tone somewhat bitter as she crossed her arms over each other.

“Wouldn’t ever dream of leaving you alone longer than I have to! Especially not on a dark night such as this. Best make it quick, hmm?” He directed the last comment to Damien, resting a hand against his back as he lead him away from the restaurant entrance. Away from prying eyes – the thought made the Mayor somewhat antsy. Mark, however, seemed earnest in his desire for conversation, blabbering away happily. Although the topic quite quickly fell to something less desirable. “Must get lonely, no?”

Damien glanced at Mark in puzzlement as they rounded a corner. “What do you mean?”

“Well, all that work and no one to come home to!” The Actor had lead him into a side street, practically deserted if not for the odd drunk who’d chugged down a more potent moonshine – although they weren’t exactly paying attention. Damien let out a groan at the comment, rolling his eyes with a stiff shrug. Although, his heart twisted uncomfortably within his chest.

“Really? Not this again. You’re starting to sound like my mom.” Mark held up his hands in a placating manner, flashing a sheepish grin. His eyes trailed the Mayor up and down, and the man shifted instinctively upon noticing.

“Terribly sorry, old friend, but it’s a fair enough question! I mean, I’m sure plenty of women would beg to be with you! You’re quite the handsome man!” The Actor persisted, and Damien bit at his lip.

“I, haven’t exactly noticed such a thing,” the man murmured, his chuckle painfully awkward, “Personally, I’m more invested in my work rather than a, relationship. I’m far too busy.” His dramatic friend rolled his eyes, and the distance between them seemed to steadily grow smaller as he rested a hand delicately on Damien’s shoulder.

“Oh horsefeathers! Why, that’s frankly absurd. Everyone deserves a relationship. Especially a man such as yourself.” The Mayor was already rather uncomfortable, but a new kind of discomfort flooded over him as he realised his back had met the wall. When had that happened? “Although I can understand how imagining such a thing could be a challenge… if the women don’t interest you.”

Damien froze. “I-I, excuse me? What exactly are you, implying?” He choked out, straightening up defensively, his expression guarded. That defiant, perturbed act didn’t last for long, however – because unexpectedly that small gap between them closed up as Mark slid his thigh provocatively between the man’s legs. Damien’s eyes widened, his face suddenly flushed with colour. “Mark-“

“Oh, come now Damien, there’s no need to lie to me,” The Actor hummed in a low voice, and a shiver ran down his spine. “I know that the girls never interested you. But what about me, hmm? Is there something you’d like to admit to?”

“I don’t…” Damien trailed off as a finger traced along his jawline before resting beneath his chin, insisting he gaze into those alluring brown eyes. Brown eyes. They were just plain, regular brown, Damien. This is wrong. 

“Shh. Your secret’s safe with me.” Mark leant forward, and suddenly he wasn’t even thinking. His hands found his old friend’s waist and his eyes fluttered shut. “Oh, Damien,” the man crooned in his ear, and the sound of his voice and the feeling of his breath tickling against his neck was like some wild fantasy. His heart pounded in his chest and as Mark shifted Damien found himself leaning forward, expecting those lips to meet his own.

But then Mark was pulling away, taking a step back. Damien’s eyes snapped open, falling upon his old friend’s expression. There was something akin to pity contorting his handsome features, “Desires such as that most definitely aren’t lawful, Mr Mayor. You sinful little thing.” Damien was frozen in place, his heart rate seeming to triple in speed – although that unexpected previous rush was now replaced with bone-chilling fear. “Why, if anyone found out about that, it would be straight to jail with you, wouldn’t it? What a scandal… our Mayor, a dirty homosexual.” He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t spit out a response. Shame and guilt and terror and disgust boiled within his gut as he clenched his hands together to prevent them from shaking.

“Mark, I… It’s not-“

“Don’t fret about it, Dames.” Mark piped up with a sudden dashing smile and a flippant shrug. “There are things you can toss me into jail for, and things I can do the same with… We’re even, eh old friend?” Damien blinked, his eyes watering although he didn’t allow any tears to spill.

“What..?”

“Did you really think I’d tell? I’m just messing with you!” The Actor let out a light hearted laugh, as if this was all some incredibly hilarious jest between friends that had no serious impact at all. Damien didn’t know whether to feel relief, or more dread. As time went on, his old friend Mark was becoming unrecognisable.

But this was perhaps something Mark would do. He was often one for jokes and pranks without seeming to see the harm in them. Damien didn’t have it in him to protest it this time. Not when he was at the butt end of it. “R-Right… Don’t, do that again, Mark…” He uttered, wincing at how weak and feeble he sounded. 

There was something terrifying in the cocky, victorious look his old friend gave him, before he straightened up with a chuckle and a wave of the hand. “Oh, as if you wouldn’t like me to do it again, Dames. You can stop acting so perfect now – God’ll see right through it! Catch you later, old friend.” And with that, as if this entire interaction hadn’t split Damien’s world in half, the Actor spun on his heel and disappeared around the corner, leaving the Mayor standing alone in the alley, heart still thumping in his chest.

Mark never brought it up again, always acting like the friend he’d always been. But that didn’t stop the fear and shame that clutched onto Damien’s heart.


	3. Cracked Mirror

Loud clatters echoed throughout the space as a shimmering cascade of glass toppled down into the white ceramic sink. The woman perched before it recoiled back slightly at the racket, letting out a quiet hiss through her gritted teeth. Deep brown eyes flicked up the meet their distorted reflection. They examined her face, now marred by the sharp cracks and holes that coated the mirror’s surface. Something tugged at the back of her mind at the sight, and her pale fingers clung to the edges of the sink as she doubled over with a wince. Blurred red and blue visions with little substance danced across her thoughts, gone as quickly as they came. A disconcerting déjà vu that frequently overcame the Seer before rapidly disappearing once more. She was brought to her senses at the sight of blood steadily trickling down the edges of the sink, staining the pristine white surface. She glanced over her pale features in the reflection of glass shards that now filled the sink – shaky and sweating. She sucked in a deep breath, hands moving to turn on the water and wash away the dark red liquid that dripped from her knuckles and stained the sink. Carefully plucking out the glass daggers to discard them in the small bin beside her.

“Celine!?” The woman jolted upright at the voice and the sound of loud rapping against the bathroom door, nearly slicing her finger with the piece of glass she currently attempted to dispose of. She growled slightly in irritation, glancing over her shoulder. Of course he’d be here right now.

“Yes, Damien?” She responded as nonchalantly as possible, letting the final shard drop with a slight clatter into the bin, before running her knuckles under the cool tap water once more.

“Are you, alright in there? What’s with all the ruckus?” Her gaze fell upon the ruined mirror and she rolled her eyes with a slight scoff. Some rich bastard was going to be mad – she wasn’t sure which one owned this place.

“I’m fine. Can’t a lady use the bathroom in peace?” Celine called out sarcastically, focusing on rubbing away any blood that still stubbornly stained the sink.

“When you start acting like a lady, mayhaps. What was that noise?” Her brother answered, as persistent as ever, where he still stood on the other side of the bathroom door. The was an awkward pause at the sound of rattling metal as he tried the handle, which was unsurprisingly locked. She let an irritable sigh escape her lips. 

“I just, dropped a bottle. Really, Damien, you worry too much.”

“Sounded like a fair bit more than a bottle.”

“I…” she let out a groan, running her free hand down her face and through her hair, “The mirror, broke.”

A confused silence fell.

Damien gave an uncertain, vaguely concerned chuckle. “The mirror, broke?”

“It may be related to the fact I hit said mirror, why does it matter?” she snapped out, earning another, far more concerned, silence. Her hands found the edge of the sink once more as she propped herself up against it, head dropping down as she directed her gaze to the water that still ran from the tap into the drain. Waiting in apprehensive silence for her twin’s response.

“Celine…” Was the soft, careful reply, barely audible through the door. She gritted her teeth in frustration. He was never mad at her. Always so compassionate. Always so selfless. “…may I come in? Please?” Black nails drummed against the white ceramic as she considered his words, before with a scowl of defeat she turned off the water, peeled away from the sink and approached the door. There was silence as she unlatched the door, the action more difficult then it should have been, her fingers still tense with frustration. She then swung open the door, dark eyes that simmered with irritation falling upon the man standing in the doorway. The mayor regarded her silently for a moment, before suddenly stepping forward and wrapping his arms tightly around her, his eyes squeezing shut. “I knew you didn’t want to come.”

Celine froze up somewhat uncomfortably at the warm embrace, although despite herself she clung onto him. “No shit,” she muttered, earning herself the faintest of chuckles. She sighed quietly, resting her head on his shoulder. “Mingling around like Mark’s prized peacock watching as the rich politicians flirt with each other is not my kind of party.”

“We don’t… flirt,” Damien mumbled, clearing his throat as he slowly drew back and adverted his gaze. The woman scoffed, rolling her eyes and giving him a playful nudge.

“Of course you don’t, little brother.” She teased, before laying off as the Mayor shifted in discomfort, “You most certainly aren’t the problem here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” Damien murmured, his gaze falling to the shattered mirror behind her, “An interesting choice of décor.” He commented somewhat sarcastically, and the Seer shifted to look at it with a sigh, her shoulders slumping.

“Yes, I hoped it was a subtle message to whoever owns this delightful manor not to host another fun little party,” she offered humorously, tracing her fingers over her bruised and cut knuckles. Damien had the courtesy to offer an amused hum of agreement, before silence fell between them.

“What, happened Celine?” The woman let out a curt sigh, her hands dropping to her sides as she looked to him.

“Who do you think?”

“Mark?” Silence fell between them once more, confirming his suspicions. Damien seemed nearly as uncomfortable talking about him as his sister. “I thought he was being quite well-mannered for once…”

“He is at the moment. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene for the press.” She grumbled idly in response, shifting to lean against the doorframe. Her eyes didn’t meet her brother’s. “He’s been rather restless at home, however. Certainly cares more for his career than anything else, but I doubt that’s surprising to you.” Damien didn’t respond, listening with an absentminded nod as his hands reached out to gently take Celine’s. She repressed a wince as he examined the wounds, before hastily pulling her hand away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Celine, I…” for a moment, the man trailed off, as if thinking better of his words. But then those pained brown eyes met their sister’s insistently, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “He hasn’t… hurt you, has her?”

There was a pause before she spoke.

“No, Damien,” came the flat response, and she straightened up and drew back, “he’s never been one for violence, has he? Like I said, he’s just more interested in his career.” Unconvinced eyes surveyed her over, before he held his hands up in surrender and stepped back into the hall.

“Alright… I suppose you’re right. But, you would talk to me if anything did happen, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would.” The words left Celine’s lips as a blatant lie, whether or not her brother allowed himself to see that or not, “I should be getting back to him now. Hopefully we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Alright… I do hope to see you again soon, I barely seem to catch you at all these days.” Celine followed him out into the hallways, dropping her gaze with a knowing sigh and nod.

“I hope so, too.” 

And with that, they parted.

But if Celine was careful, she and her brother’s meetings would remain short and scarce. The more time they spent together the more risk Mark would act on his paranoia. Her hands curled into fists as each step only brought her closer to being stuck by his side for an unknown period of time. And her husband was paranoid. Which each passing day his paranoia grew. She’d watched it. Seen him tossing and turning in his sleep. Heard his wild mutters. Felt his growing animosity. He’d withdrawn from her, suddenly wary. She’d had to keep her investigations into the supernatural more concealed than ever. There was something wrong with that house, and now it finally seemed to affect Mark.

It should have been more of a surprise when Mark had hit her. 

It had certainly been a surprise to him. He’d broken from his paranoia. His ranting and raving that she would somehow sabotage his career had quickly died. This crazed suspicion she was plotting with Damien and William behind his back – he’d never explain where such a suspicion derived from – hastily became taboo. He’d broken down. Begged on his knees for forgiveness. Spent weeks in a guilt-ridden stupor. Until, he suddenly decided to pretend as if the entire fiasco had never happened. If he denied it, locked it away and forgot about it, it had never happened. But Celine didn’t forget. It was hard to when that same cycle began repeating over and over. With every paranoid rant, every hit, every desperate plead for forgiveness – she found herself more drawn to William’s company.

With each passing day, Mark made his own suspicions become the truth.


End file.
